


Soul's On Your Sleeve

by chacah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Be Ready For Feels, I'll add more characters as time goes on, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, daemon AU, there will be a few OCs in this as well, this is a continuation of an old drabble I wrote
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chacah/pseuds/chacah
Summary: They say a daemon is a window to your soul. They show exactly who you are and what you're feeling at all times. But that feeling can get convoluted in many ways if you meet the right person that links your daemon to another's... and you to them. Of course, meeting your soulmate is rare, so rare that most people have come to the conclusion they will never meet theirs. Although, when it happens... it's like your soul is on your sleeve for your other half to see, and vice versa. For some, it's a reassurance; for others, it's unnerving. To hear another voice within your soul - one that is not your daemon's - can be overwhelming. So when one Jesse McCree hears the chilling voice within his soul and feels the icy blast within his chest, he knows he's in for one hell of a ride upon meeting one Hanzo Shimada.





	1. Summer Breeze/Winter Frost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my little drabble I did for McHanzo week 2 years ago. I'm finally getting the courage to write their story down. The first few chapters are going to be a set up of a few of the characters you'll meet in the story... Show you in a way a short preview of how they grew up and why they are as they are, so to speak.
> 
> In this universe, Gabriel doesn't join Talon, but Overwatch does fall. So if it is a little confusing as to why Gabe is showing up, that's why.
> 
> Please bear with me, it's been a little over a year since I've written - depression got pretty bad.
> 
> But if you enjoy, please give a kudo and a comment!

_**Chapter One: Summer Breeze/Winter Frost** _

Every night he had been told tales of grandeur, of love, and had been raised on the thought that there was _hope_ that he too could achieve it. That was… until he had been taken from his mama.

_“Never grow up.”_ It had always been the words of his mother as he was growing up. When Pa came back and beat her. When he pretended to be a big shot cowboy all grown up and rounding up criminals. She would just smile at him, those eyes so full of love and hope for him, and murmur. _“Never grow up.”_

He had taken those words to heart, even as he was dragged away from her at the tender age of six by his father to join Deadlock. He took those words to heart as he heard the sound of the gunshot before his mother’s scream… and then silence. He branded those words within his memory as they shoved a gun into his hand at the tender age of six, told him, _“Grow up. Be a man. I don’t allow boys in my ranks!”_

He made a promise on that day, the day he knew he had lost his Mama forever. 

_I ain’ ever gonna grow up!_

In part it was to honor his mother’s wishes. Another part was to anger Deadlock. But the biggest part of him wanted to do it to anger his Pa. For everyone knew Pa McCree was someone you didn’t want to mess with.

_Squealers make good eats._

Most of the time it was slim pickings, really.

_Take the meat of the traitor, boy; so you know what betrayal tastes like…_

It tasted nauseating.

Jesse McCree would never forget those words. They haunted him on a nightly basis - had since he had gotten free of Pa and Deadlock. 

But the words that stuck with him the most through the years - the words he would tell other children he ran into on his adventures - were those of his Mama.

Through the years others’ daemons would halt their changing, settle on a form, and Jesse _knew_ that they had grown into themselves. But him? _His_ daemon continued to shift, to undulate, form after form, never staying in one for overly long. A horse, a puma, a coyote, a hawk, a longhorn… Change after change, day after day, and year after year. It aggravated the _hell_ out of his Pa and Deadlock…

_Even more reason to do it._

_“Never grow ol’,”_ he would mutter to people when they gave him a quizzical look.

When he joined Blackwatch, he kept that mantra. Within his heart he was nothing but a kid, and it showed with his daemon. Of course, most of the time he tried to act like an adult, tried to cover up that mischief or the fear, but that was one thing a daemon could not hide… What their human actually felt at that time.

~~~

He had grown up too quickly in his youth, unable to be the child his mother had wanted him to be. The day his mother had died had been the day his daemons had settled on what they would ultimately be… Wolves.

It was rare that a Shimada had anything but a dragon daemon when it finally settled on a form, but Hanzo had been more quizzical than having wolves as his daemons. He had _two._

Unlike his brother, who’s daemon always flitted between each form, bounding from one place to another, _his_ were stalwart and quiet. Standing with him at every moment, cold as the snowy winds atop mountains, they never left their posts.

This of course, lead to the Elders whispering amongst themselves on how he would be the heir, how _he_ would be the one to raise the Shimada Empire higher. They all had such high hopes for him, and he was the diligent child - as he should be - and did whatever he could.

Even when hands wandered, even when he didn’t agree, even when eyes roamed where they probably shouldn’t, he kept himself quiet and stalwart - the epitome of what an heir _should_ be.

_“You’re so serious all the time!”_ His brother would tease, poking and prodding, but Hanzo would just turn away, wolves accompanying him.

He did not have the luxury to be a child, to have that fun - to _live_. He had responsibilities. He had duties. He would not give anyone any thoughts of him being anything less than what they thought he _should_ be - not what he _wanted_ to be.

_“You need not be an adult just yet, Hanzo,”_ his father would smile at him, placing a hand upon his head to ruffle hair, his dragon daemon curling around the both of them. _“I am still here, still alive, still breathing. You need not think you must become what a child should not be…”_

But those words were short lived, as all lives and words usually were. His father withered away, leaving both Shimada boys in grief - and the Shimada clan without a leader. He knew - Hanzo _knew_ \- at that point that there would be no other future for him.

He was the heir to the Shimada clan. _He_ would have to take up being the head, even though he was still quite young. Anything he had originally thought to be when he was older had officially been snuffed out. _This_ was his future. _This_ is what he had to do. _This_ would be how he died, dictating just _what_ the clan needed to do.

And when whispered words within his ear pushed him into conflict with his brother, he told himself it was what was best for the clan. That if Genji would not bend knee, that he would destroy everything their parents had spent their lives trying to create… And that could not happen.

It was as the striking blow hit, body of his little and precious brother lay beneath him, that for the first time his daemons showed something other than icy resolve. Each howled. Not a howl of warmth, not a howl of warning… No…

A howl of _mourning._

The promise he had made to himself when his father had died had unraveled and frayed upon the wind there that night. _Protect Genji, no matter what it took._

Just _how_ could he had been such a _fool_?

Sword dropping from his shaking grip, he quickly fled, the tears flowing freely from his eyes. The only one he had left, and he had just erased that joyful life from his presence. The _one_ thing, one _person_ , that had brought a slight smile to his lips since their father’s death - and he had _killed_ him…

_“For the survival of the clan,”_ the whispered words of the Elders gripped at him, but it did nothing to calm the throbbing heart within his chest, or the absolute _agony_ that he felt within his _soul._

_“I’m sorry…”_ He whispered, unable to take back what he so desperately wished he could.


	2. Fall's Chill/Spring's Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of my little drabble I did for McHanzo week 2 years ago. I'm finally getting the courage to write their story down. The first few chapters are going to be a set up of a few of the characters you'll meet in the story... Show you in a way a short preview of how they grew up and why they are as they are, so to speak.
> 
> In this universe, Gabriel doesn't join Talon, but Overwatch does fall. So if it is a little confusing as to why Gabe is showing up, that's why.
> 
> Please bear with me, it's been a little over a year since I've written - depression got pretty bad.
> 
> But if you enjoy, please give a kudo and a comment!

_**Chapter Two: Fall's Chill/Spring's Warmth** _

He was always getting into fights when he was younger, taking on unobtainable odds and enjoying the _hell_ out of the chaos that would ensue. His mother always tisked him when he came back with bumps and bruises, a black eye, but would always smile and clean him up, murmuring how he was a clever little boy.

_“Always thinking outside the box, aren’t you, Gabi?”_ She would always sigh, scrubbing away the dirt upon his cheek, or placing a steak over his eye to help the black and blue bruise there.

_“Did you beat them?”_ Was always the question when he’d walk back into the house, large smile upon his face as he rubbed the back of his head. At his nod, she would swoop in to clean him up, tisking away and tittering to him in Spanish. But he didn’t mind. It was only out of loving and caring that she did it - he knew.

One Gabriel Reyes grew up in a family of four sisters and a single mother. He knew the importance of family and how to protect those that might not be able to protect themselves. He grew up fighting for the things he saw right in the world, and his Daemon constantly was in flux.

His mother always giggled and shook her head, telling him that one day his daemon’s shape would stick and he’d be stuck with whatever outlandish creature it decided it was. But it was an endearing quality, she said… How it seemed to change shape in order to help him.

Large and menacing when Gabriel wanted to feel that way, small, compact, and sleek when Gabriel needed to run. Or even soft and consoling with its shape when he himself was trying to make his sisters feel better when they were having a bad day.

But the fateful day it calmed itself and refused to change its shape was the day that Gabriel knew he was who he needed to be, and that was all that mattered.

_“My little boy’s all grown up,”_ his mother had sobbed, a smile upon her lips as she had hugged him strongly. _“All grown up and going away…”_

It had been a slightly embarrassing day. She had done nothing but cry, as had his sisters, as he had packed up his things to enter the military. It was one way he could keep them safe, and the money he would get would help his mother pay for everything that four daughters needed every month.

The soft purr that he could feel in his chest even though he was not the one making the noise had been a calming presence. Leave it to his daemon to always be there when things got tough, to help him through the hell that was constantly his mind.

It had been an interesting discovery - and the doctors and medical field still had no clue what to think about it - but when his daemon had settled upon its shape, its gender it had chosen was female. Maybe it was became Gabriel had always been surrounded by women, maybe it was because it thought he needed a nurturing at all times. No one knew, nor did they understand. And yet, Gabriel accepted her as she was. Because she was he, and he was her. Also, another mystery had been how she had chosen to be a black jaguar. Why? No one was sure…

Except for Gabriel.

She had chosen her shape for how _secretive_ Gabriel was in all aspects. Or well, how secretive he _wanted_ to be, and _would_ be in the military.

Of course, over the years in the military, that shape really showed who Gabriel was. And even when S.E.P. came along, he did his best to stay almost aloof and uncaring in a way, but secretive. That was…

Until a certain Indiana farmer boy showed up in his life, all tail wags and eyes wide with both fear and yet wonder. And all those years of protecting sisters and the absolute _need_ rolled through him.

For all the things they were put through, the torture, the agony, the _pain_ … Gabriel found that his strength and compassion - what little there was left by S.E.P. - came in handy, as did the nurturing of his daemon.

~~~

It was when he turned five that he knew his life wouldn’t be all fun and games. It was when he turned five that his parents were able to destroy his daemon, rip it from him and take it away. It was when he turned five that he knew he would have to fight for every tiny scrap of food and clothing he ever had.

At six, he was hidden away from everyone, tossed into the basement and told that was where he would live from now on. It was lonely, it was hollow, and it _hurt_ to not have a daemon.

He came to the conclusion that he must have done something horrible to have his parents do what they had done. For they hadn’t done this to his siblings, both older and younger.

He swore at that point that he would do whatever he needed to in order to get away from them, to try and find his daemon once more. It couldn’t be gone, right? It couldn’t have left him fully…

And then the fateful day came. The day where both his parents were gone from the house, same with all of his siblings, and he quickly snuck out. Out into the world that he had not seen since he was six… ten years before.

He had heard his older brother speaking to his father about how the military was trying to recruit for their new program.

It was the start of his new life, the start where he could possibly _be_ someone.

So as he stood in front of the recruitment officers, panting for breath, a resolve set within him. _“What’s your name, kid?”_ One of them asked, looking around him for the boy’s daemon.

_“John Jack Morrison, sir.”_ He finally caught his breath, straightening fully and yet shyly.

_“Where’s your daemon, kid?”_ The other asked, eyebrow raised as he wrote down the name of the boy before indicating towards the bus that was waiting for them.

_“I… don’t have one…”_ Was the reply they received, head downcast and shoulders hunkered. _“But! It… It won’t stop me, I promise!”_ He cried out, looking a little terrified as he looked up at them.

_“We’ll see, kid. Get on the bus.”_

He’d do everything he had to in order to stay within the military. He’d stay safe - away from his parents. And that became even more of a goal when he met Gabriel. The man just seemed to pull him under his wing and keep him safe.

Although…

He _couldn’t_ keep him safe from the testing they did upon him during their time in S.E.P. And poor Jack found himself in so much agony, so much pain. But… it was all for the betterment of the people - he had been told.

For if they could figure out a way to graft a daemon to someone, they could help _thousands_ of people who had lost theirs, or had somehow been born without one. But one test after another. Pain. Agony. Anguish. Failure upon failure.

Until… it wasn’t.

And for the first time in _ten_ years, Jack didn’t feel empty inside. He didn’t feel that void that ached and throbbed. No. It was nothing but sunshine and love…

_Love…_

Something he hadn’t felt before.

So as he sat there, staring into those crystalline blue eyes that blinked back at him, happiness exuding from not only them - but the daemon itself - Jack couldn’t help but cry and wrap his arms around it - _him._

_“Sunny.”_ He whispered, burying his face into the neck of the Golden Retriever that sat there, tail wagging uncontrollably. _“Can I call you Sunny?”_


End file.
